Broken and Beautiful
by Politics.and.Prose
Summary: Her scream woke him with a start, his limbs flailing as he fell out of bed. **Serious subject matter.**


Her scream woke him with a start, his limbs flailing as he fell out of bed. When he landed on the floor, he couldn't breathe but he popped up anyway, staring at his girlfriend, who was standing by the bed, her hands clenched over her still flat stomach, staring at the spot she sleeps in.

"San, what's wrong?" he asked, his heart beating rapidly.

She clenched her teeth together, her finger pointing at the bed, her head shaking back and forth. She looked furious and hurt and a little in pain and, just under the surface, sad. She looked up at him and he also saw the _one_ emotion he didn't want to.

She looked scared as fuck.

"San …?"

"Blood," she whispered. "And … and not just a little."

He furrowed his brow, his stomach plummeting, as he walked to her side of the bed. It wasn't just a little bit of blood. Hell, it wasn't like she had her lady time either. It was a lot of blood and it was soaking through their sheets and into the mattress.

"Change and I'll take you to the hospital," he told her hurriedly. "We'll figure out what it is and get it fixed."

"I know what it is," she said softly as she started pulling the blankets and sheets from the bed. She continued to grip her stomach with one hand, her eyes looking straight down.

He gently stopped her and tilted her face up so he could look into her eyes. "What is it? You've never … this hasn't happened before."

"Yeah. I … I'll go to the doctors or whatever on Monday," she answered as she shrugged away from him and continued to strip the bed.

He panicked when she dropped the sheets, gripped her stomach and doubled over.

"Fuck," he cried out as he wrapped an arm around her. "We're going to the fucking ER. Let's go!"

She shrugged him off angrily, a tear escaping in her fury. "They can't do anything, Puck!" she screamed as she backed away until her back was pressed against the wall. "I know that the fucking problem is and there's not a goddamn motherfucking thing _anyone_ can do about it! So fucking drop it, okay?"

"You can't even fucking stand up without crying!"

"I'm not crying, prick!"

"Right. And that the fuck are the wet things sliding down your face then, huh? Is your hair raining?" he spat back in irritation.

"Just shut up and help me flip the mattress," she muttered as she shuffled back to the bed and bent down, obviously trying to hide her wince.

He didn't move, crossing his arms and scowling. "You're always talking shit about how you don't need me for anything but sex and food. So fucking do it yourself. I dare you."

"You're such an asshole. Oh my God. What the fuck is wrong with you?" she yelled.

"Tell me what the fuck happened or I'll throw you over my fucking shoulder, tie you into the truck seat and drag you to the fucking hospital myself!"

"I had a fucking miscarriage!" she screamed before she crumpled onto the bed.

Puck was frozen, unable to move. A miscarriage meant she was pregnant. A miscarriage meant she's not pregnant anymore. A miscarriage meant there was another baby God didn't think he was good enough to raise.

"And thanks for fucking comforting me, bastard," she spat through her tears. "It really means a fucking lot."

He stared for another minute before walking over and sitting on the bed, leaving a few inches of space between them. "You're … _were_ … pregnant?"

"Why no, Puck, I'm not in any pain at all. Please, don't bother getting me some goddamn fucking Advil! It's really not necessary!"

"Baby, calm down," he said evenly. "I'm trying to process this. In the span of a second I found out I was gonna be a dad and then I wasn't."

"Ugh," she scoffed as she pushed herself up from the bed. "You're such a fucking pussy. I don't know what it is about you and fucking babies but, you know, what? I'm fucking _glad_ this happened because I don't know who you fucking are when you're like that!" she yelled, tears falling in earnest. "I-I'm fucking _glad_."

He stood slowly, a deep scowl on his face. "No you're not."

"I … I _am_," she insisted, backing towards their bathroom. "I don't … I don't _want_ to have a baby. Especially not with _you_!"

He stepped closer, his head shaking back and forth as he advanced. "That's not true," he said softly. "I can see it in your eyes."

Her bottom lip quivered as she shook her head quickly. "No. No, I don't. I _don't_. I don't want … I …"

He reached her and wrapped his arms around her, pulling her close. "It's okay, baby."

She fought against him weakly, shoving and punching as she sopped, the tears streaming down her face. "Let me go," she whimpered. "Let me … let me …"

"I've got you, San. I'm right here. We're okay," he soothed as he rocked back and forth with her in his arms. "Just let it out."

"It hurts so _bad_," she told him.

"We're going to the hospital right now," he said as he turned to reach for the dresser to get her a change of clothes.

"My heart," she whispered. "My heart hurts."

He took a deep breath and pulled her close, cradling her to his chest. He ran his fingers through her hair, his eyes clenching shut and trying to keep his tears at bay. "I know, baby. Mine too."

"I wanted the baby. With you."

He nodded slightly as he pulled her closer. He felt her arms wrap around his waist and her hands clench against the skin of his back. "We'll have one," he promised. "We will."

"What if I can't?" she whimpered. "What if there's something wrong with me?"

"We'll deal with that if it happens." He pulled back and pressed a kiss to her head. "Let's get you changed and to the hospital, okay?"

She nodded but held him tighter, her face pressed against his chest. "I don't want to let go."

He pulled back slightly and looked down into her eyes. "Get changed and then I won't let go. Even at the hospital. I mean, I'll keep holding on even if they take you somewhere for an exam. I'll let them, like, check my prostate or whatever if it means I don't have to let you go."

She chuckled wetly. "You love me enough to let someone stick something up your ass?"

"Better than a ring," he told her with a slight smile before directing her over to the dresser, pulling out some clothes for her and helping her change.

* * *

><p><strong>For Julia, my Pucktana Queen. *KISSES*<strong>


End file.
